When Salem Whit walked through the hallways of their high school in Spring Grove, Pennsylvania, overhearing classmates ask one another, “What is that thing?” happened with nearly enough frequency to become background noise. Unlike the sound of lockers slamming, however, comments about Salem’s gender identity were too targeted for the teen to treat them as white noise. “I actually thought I was inhuman,” Salem recalled when thinking about the years of bullying and harassment they experienced in high school. “I thought I was an alien. I definitely thought I was going to hell.”

Salem graduated from high school in 2015 but says the process of getting to that point was far from easy. “I’m not sure how my grades were good enough to graduate,” the 19-year-old explained. After years of experiencing gender dysphoria—feeling an intense and innate disconnect from their body, gender presentation, voice, and name—Salem came out as transgender during their senior year of high school. More specifically, Salem identifies as both non-binary and agender, meaning that while Salem does not identify with the female sex they were assigned at birth, they also do not identify as male or use male pronouns.

As classmates and teachers struggled to use Salem’s preferred pronouns and accept their gender presentation, however, the high-schooler found that the greatest relief came from avoiding school altogether. “I skipped classes,” they admitted. “I quit every extracurricular. I stopped participating in sports, gym, and drama—anything that separated us by gender. I even stopped talking for a while, because my gender dysphoria caused me to really hate the sound of my own voice.” At 16, feeling lost and lonely, Salem attempted suicide.

* * *

Disturbingly, Salem’s story is more common than not among youth who identify as LGBT. According to the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network’s new report, “Teasing to Torment: School Climate Revisited,” LGBT youth in middle and high school have lower grades, more attendance problems, and are less likely to complete high school than their heterosexual and cisgender peers. Many experience long-term emotional effects from the bullying, harassment, and anti-LGBT bias they face as students. Life may have gotten better for many in the LGBT community in the last decade, but for LGBT youth in middle and high school, there is much room for improvement.

Teachers play an important yet under-discussed role when it comes to anti-LGBT bias and bullying in schools. Youth often seek out teachers, coaches, and other administrators for support when it may lack at home or in their communities. Many LGBT students, however, need staff who are not only supportive of LGBT people, but are also prepared to deal with the complex and diverse issues that the community experiences. As GLSEN’s report demonstrates, few in the school system feel equipped to handle these scenarios, suggesting that training and development for teachers and staff on LGBT-specific topics may be a necessity to provide equal safety and support for LGBT youth.

A disparity exists between what teachers feel and what their actions—or in this case, inactions—suggest. GLSEN reports that teachers are overwhelmingly in support of their LGBT students, but few receive training on how to discuss LGBT topics in the classroom or how to offer guidance to individual LGBT students. Though their support and intervention can make a world of difference for youth like Salem, a striking number of teachers and staff confess to feeling uncomfortable intervening when it comes to anti-LGBT bullying and harassment. According to Emily Greytak, GLSEN’s director of research, administrative support may be the key to keeping LGBT youth in school—and to saving their lives.

“Society has changed in many positive ways, and we assumed schools would follow suit.”

GLSEN conducted the study through online surveys among 1,367 middle- and high-school students between the ages of 13 and 18 nationwide. GLSEN also surveyed 10,015 secondary-school teachers. This report examines the current climate of schools for LGBT youth one decade after GLSEN’s original report was released in 2005. GLSEN’s original report was the first nationwide survey that examined the differences in experience between LGBT and non-LGBT youth in schools.

Since 2005, the LGBT community has seen a lot of progress, including marriage equality and advancements in employment protections, and researchers this time around were hopeful to find that school climates improved for LGBT youth as well. “Society has changed in many positive ways, and we assumed schools would follow suit. With this report, we wanted to get a snapshot of how LGBT students are doing in schools today,” Greytak said.

While the 2015 report shows minor, gradual improvements have occurred for LGBT youth in schools over the last 10 years, heterosexual and cisgender students still experience less victimization and better grades and are more hopeful about their futures than their LGBT counterparts. The challenges faced by LGBT youth in school can have long-term consequences.

According to GLSEN’s latest findings, LGBT secondary-school students experience higher rates of bullying based on not only their sexual orientation and gender identity, but also their appearance and body size. They’re also more likely to experience sexual harassment, cyberbullying, and property damage, among other forms of intimidation and abuse.

“We see that LGBT youth are being deprived of an equal education based on these hostile school climates,” Greytak said. According to GLSEN’s report, LGBT students are three times as likely than their non-LGBT peers to report they do not plan on completing high school, and twice as likely to have skipped school in the past month as a result of feeling unsafe or uncomfortable around their peers.

* * *

For Cara Donovan, now 24, skipping school became her only defense against rumors about her sexual orientation. Once a high-achieving student, Cara came close to failing three classes during her sophomore year of high school when the bullying and rumors were at their worst. Cara’s attendance and grades plummeted at the height of her bullying; she skipped 28 days her freshman year, 25 her sophomore year, 18 as a junior, and “only” 13 as a senior. As she explained in an interview, Cara’s bullies were mostly upperclassmen, and when they graduated, the rumors left with them. When those bullies left, however, things didn’t get much better: “I went back to hiding and ignoring my identity,” she explained.

At the age of 15, Cara began dating a female classmate at her high school—a relationship that lasted about six months and was marked by a sense of isolation and self-hatred. “I completely repressed it,” she said. “I hated myself so much that I couldn't talk about it, and I would have panic attacks if people brought it up.” Forgetting her first love has been a way of healing from the trauma and anti-LGBT bullying she faced from her peers. Cara had no access to a Gay Straight Alliance and never discussed LGBT themes, history, or people in her classes. What Cara did hear came from her classmates. “I remember walking into softball practice and hearing some girls whispering about me that I was gay. Before the softball team was a type of family. But after the rumors started, I would receive shady looks and some of the other players stopped speaking to me,” she said. “I started to think there was something really wrong with me … I wasn't normal.”

According to GLSEN’s report, half of teachers surveyed said that they haven’t done anything to support LGBT youth at their schools. In fact, teachers reported feeling the least comfortable dealing with LGBT students who’d been subject to harassment and assault; they were much more comfortable addressing those problems when they involved ability, sexism, and race.

Nearly all teachers—83 percent—reported believing that they have a responsibility to ensure a safe learning environment for LGBT students. The disconnect between what teachers believe is their duty and what they feel comfortable acting on may come down to training and preparation, Greytak suggested.

Less than a third of teachers reported receiving training on LGBT issues, and less than a quarter receive training on transgender issues. While all sexual minorities are vulnerable, transgender youth often face additional barriers. According to the National Center for Transgender Equality, more than 75 percent of transgender youth report feeling unsafe at school, and 59 percent were denied access to restrooms consistent with their gender identity; those who do persevere through school also have significantly lower grades.

“On days I am really sad, I give myself five minutes to cry.”

For Salem, navigating life as teen who did not fit society’s traditional notions of sex and gender required them to rely on hope and judgment each time they came out about their gender identity. “Teachers were hard to read,” they explained. “Some of them did use my preferred name and pronouns, which meant a lot to me. Others avoided using pronouns at all, which was at least better than being misgendered.”

Salem notes, too, that policies can push teachers into tricky situations. “Partway through my senior year, teachers were told that they had to call us [transgender students] by our assigned names.” As Salem remembers the policy, “the exception was if the student's guardian would come to school to sign a paper about our names.”

But “few of us had someone supportive enough to sign it,” Salem continued. “So I never really felt safe at school.”

* * *

GLSEN’s report suggests that including LGBT history and issues into curricula may have a significant impact on the experience of LGBT students. LGBT students who were taught about LGBT people, history, or events in any of their classes reported experiencing lower levels of victimization. At the time of the study, however, only 20 percent of students reported learning about LGBT topics in any of their classes.

Queen Cornish, a 15-year-old sophomore at Mount Pleasant High School in Wilmington, Delaware, feels that her school creates a valuable safe-space for LGBT youth. “A lot of teachers have ‘safe space’ stickers on their doors,” she told me in an interview. “Those little signs are great because they let you know that the teacher is going to respect your identity.” When I was in middle school, people heard that I had a crush on a girl and the rumors really started,” said Queen, who chooses not to label her sexual orientation. “People called me a lesbian and gossiped a lot … Someone even called me an ‘abomination.’”

As early as middle school, Queen contemplated suicide. “I felt very, very empty,” she recalled. “I was lonely every day.” Queen acknowledges that she still struggles with feelings of depression and emptiness but uses her own experiences to motivate her to aid others who are struggling. “On days I am really sad, I give myself five minutes to cry,” she explained. “Then I make myself do something proactive for the community. If I can help even one person accept themselves, then I know I’ve made a difference.”

Luckily, Queen has supportive parents, and although she has nearly three years of high school left, she feels confident that her school and community are moving in the right direction for their LGBT youth. “We get to talk about LGBT issues in class,” Queen explains. “We can choose to do projects on topics like same-sex adoption or same-sex marriage which really helps normalize it.” In the coming years, Queen hopes to see even more inclusivity in the classroom, including LGBT-specific sexual education and discussion of gender dysphoria.

Greytak stressed that comprehensive preparation and education on LGBT topics should be built into every educator’s training. “The Constitution guarantees all students, including LGBT students, access to safe and equal education,” she said. “But right now, LGBT students across the country are deprived of equal learning. Even though it is 2016, it is not an equal playing field for all students. We must keep working to educate and protect LGBT youth in our schools.”

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Congressional Republicans and conservative pundits had the chance to signal Trump his attacks on law enforcement are unacceptable—but they sent the opposite message.

President Trump raged at his TV on Sunday morning. And yet on balance, he had a pretty good weekend. He got a measure of revenge upon the hated FBI, firing former Deputy Director Andrew McCabe two days before his pension vested. He successfully coerced his balky attorney general, Jeff Sessions, into speeding up the FBI’s processes to enable the firing before McCabe’s retirement date.

Beyond this vindictive fun for the president, he achieved something politically important. The Trump administration is offering a not very convincing story about the McCabe firing. It is insisting that the decision was taken internally by the Department of Justice, and that the president’s repeated and emphatic demands—public and private—had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

The first female speaker of the House has become the most effec­tive congressional leader of modern times—and, not coinciden­tally, the most vilified.

Last May, TheWashington Post’s James Hohmann noted “an uncovered dynamic” that helped explain the GOP’s failure to repeal Obamacare. Three current Democratic House members had opposed the Affordable Care Act when it first passed. Twelve Democratic House members represent districts that Donald Trump won. Yet none voted for repeal. The “uncovered dynamic,” Hohmann suggested, was Nancy Pelosi’s skill at keeping her party in line.

She’s been keeping it in line for more than a decade. In 2005, George W. Bush launched his second presidential term with an aggressive push to partially privatize Social Security. For nine months, Republicans demanded that Democrats admit the retirement system was in crisis and offer their own program to change it. Pelosi refused. Democratic members of Congress hosted more than 1,000 town-hall meetings to rally opposition to privatization. That fall, Republicans backed down, and Bush’s second term never recovered.

Invented centuries ago in France, the bidet has never taken off in the States. That might be changing.

“It’s been completely Americanized!” my host declares proudly. “The bidet is gone!” In my time as a travel editor, this scenario has become common when touring improvements to hotels and resorts around the world. My heart sinks when I hear it. To me, this doesn’t feel like progress, but prejudice.

Americans seem especially baffled by these basins. Even seasoned American travelers are unsure of their purpose: One globe-trotter asked me, “Why do the bathrooms in this hotel have both toilets and urinals?” And even if they understand the bidet’s function, Americans often fail to see its appeal. Attempts to popularize the bidet in the United States have failed before, but recent efforts continue—and perhaps they might even succeed in bringing this Old World device to new backsides.

As the Trump presidency approaches a troubling tipping point, it’s time to find the right term for what’s happening to democracy.

Here is something that, even on its own, is astonishing: The president of the United States demanded the firing of the former FBI deputy director, a career civil servant, after tormenting him both publicly and privately—and it worked.

The American public still doesn’t know in any detail what Andrew McCabe, who was dismissed late Friday night, is supposed to have done. But citizens can see exactly what Donald Trump did to McCabe. And the president’s actions are corroding the independence that a healthy constitutional democracy needs in its law enforcement and intelligence apparatus.

McCabe’s firing is part of a pattern. It follows the summary removal of the previous FBI director and comes amid Trump’s repeated threats to fire the attorney general, the deputy attorney, and the special counsel who is investigating him and his associates. McCabe’s ouster unfolded against a chaotic political backdrop which includes Trump’s repeated calls for investigations of his political opponents, demands of loyalty from senior law enforcement officials, and declarations that the job of those officials is to protect him from investigation.

How evangelicals, once culturally confident, became an anxious minority seeking political protection from the least traditionally religious president in living memory

One of the most extraordinary things about our current politics—really, one of the most extraordinary developments of recent political history—is the loyal adherence of religious conservatives to Donald Trump. The president won four-fifths of the votes of white evangelical Christians. This was a higher level of support than either Ronald Reagan or George W. Bush, an outspoken evangelical himself, ever received.

Trump’s background and beliefs could hardly be more incompatible with traditional Christian models of life and leadership. Trump’s past political stances (he once supported the right to partial-birth abortion), his character (he has bragged about sexually assaulting women), and even his language (he introduced the words pussy and shithole into presidential discourse) would more naturally lead religious conservatives toward exorcism than alliance. This is a man who has cruelly publicized his infidelities, made disturbing sexual comments about his elder daughter, and boasted about the size of his penis on the debate stage. His lawyer reportedly arranged a $130,000 payment to a porn star to dissuade her from disclosing an alleged affair. Yet religious conservatives who once blanched at PG-13 public standards now yawn at such NC-17 maneuvers. We are a long way from The Book of Virtues.

Much more than time separates the 27th president from the 45th: from their vastly different views on economics, to their conceptions of the presidency itself.

As Donald Trump’s executive orders punishing steel and aluminum imports threaten a trade war around the globe, Republicans on Capitol Hill are debating whether to reassert Congress’s ultimate constitutional authority over tariffs and trade. This isn’t the first time the GOP has split itself in two on the question of protective tariffs. But the last time, just over 100 years ago, the Republican president’s policies were the exact opposite of Trump’s.

William Howard Taft—in his opposition to populism and protectionism, as well as his devotion to constitutional limits on the powers of the presidency—was essentially the anti-Trump. Unlike the current president, and his own predecessor, Theodore Roosevelt, Taft refused to rule by executive order, insisting that the chief executive could only exercise those powers that the Constitution explicitly authorizes.

Among the more practical advice that can be offered to international travelers is wisdom of the bathroom. So let me say, as someone who recently returned from China, that you should be prepared to one, carry your own toilet paper and two, practice your squat.

I do not mean those goofy chairless sits you see at the gym. No, toned glutes will not save you here. I mean the deep squat, where you plop your butt down as far as it can go while staying aloft and balanced on the heels. This position—in contrast to deep squatting on your toes as most Americans naturally attempt instead—is so stable that people in China can hold it for minutes and perhaps even hours ...

The debate around sexual-harassment legislation is playing out in the Maryland General Assembly, where reform advocates say leadership is loath to embrace changes.

In Maryland, legislative sessions run 90 days, from January through early April. On the final day of each session—commonly referred to by the Latin term sine die—the capital city of Annapolis lets its hair down. There is dining and dancing and parties galore as aides, lawmakers, and lobbyists celebrate having survived the season.

A few years back, at one sine die soiree hosted by a legislator, a former Annapolis aide (who requested anonymity because she remains involved in Maryland politics) took to the dance floor. “I was dancing a little bit by myself,” she recalled. “All of a sudden I hear, ‘You’re packing a little bit more than I thought back here!’ I turn around, and this legislator is dancing right behind me. I was like, ‘Ooookay. This is a little weird. I know your wife and kids.’ So I tried to subtly move away.” The legislator followed, recalled the ex-aide. And then: “He got aroused.” The young woman made a swift escape, and, she informed me, “I have not spoken to that legislator one-on-one since.”

Scholars have been sounding the alarm about data-harvesting firms for nearly a decade. The latest Cambridge Analytica scandal shows it may be too late to stop them.

On Friday night, Facebook suspended the account of Cambridge Analytica, the political-data company backed by the billionaire Robert Mercer that consulted on both the Brexit and Trump campaigns.

The action came just before The Guardian and The New York Timesdropped major reports in which the whistle-blower Christopher Wylie alleged that Cambridge Analytica had used data that an academic had allegedly improperly exfiltrated from the social network. These new stories, backed by Wylie’s account and internal documents, followed years of reporting by The Guardianand The Intercept about the possible problem.

The details could seem Byzantine. Aleksandr Kogan, then a Cambridge academic, founded a company, Global Science Research, and immediately took on a major client, Strategic Communication Laboratories, which eventually gave birth to Cambridge Analytica. (Steve Bannon, an adviser to the company and a former senior adviser to Trump, reportedly picked the name.)

Although the former secretary of state’s contentious relationship with the president didn’t help matters, Tillerson’s management style left a department in disarray.

Rex Tillerson is hardly the first person to be targeted in a tweet from Donald Trump, but on Tuesday morning, he became the first Cabinet official to be fired by one. It was an ignominious end to Tillerson’s 13-month stint as secretary of state, a tenure that would have been undistinguished if it weren’t so entirely destructive.

Compared with expectations for other members of Trump’s Cabinet, the disastrous results of Tillerson’s time in office are somewhat surprising. Unlike the EPA’s Scott Pruitt, Tillerson did not have obvious antipathy for the department he headed; unlike HUD’s Ben Carson, he had professional experience that was relevant to the job; and unlike Education’s Betsy DeVos, his confirmation hearing wasn't a disaster.